Like the First Time
by Stationary Love
Summary: The first and last deaths of Captain Jack Harkness, along with a few inbetween.


**Disclaimer:** Not mine yet. But, maybe if I ask Santa _really_ nicely?  
**Author Note: **So this was a little idea I had after speculating about how freaked out Jack must have been that second time he died. Then it turned into a character study kind of thing, and then it became a seven page long monster. But I loved writing it, so here it is. Also, crossposted on LiveJournal under the username "loveronhermione".

xxx

The first time Captain Jack Harkness died, he was on a satellite called the Game Station, which, unless you knew what kind of games were played there, doesn't sound like a very likely place to die. And yet, that's exactly what happened. He heard the Dalek yell, "EXTERMINATE!"

Jack always had a cheeky reply ready, and his death was no exception. "I kinda figured that."

The last noise Jack heard before he died was the zap of the beam, and for a split second he felt a painful shock go through his whole body as he was thrown against the wall behind him. And then it was all over.

There wasn't anything after death. No heaven, no hell. At least, not that Jack could remember, because when he heard the words "I bring life" as he felt the sudden, painful rush of air enter his lungs, the only sign to him that any time at all had passed was that instead of three Daleks in front of him, there were three piles of dust.

xxx

The second time Captain Jack Harkness died, it was 1892, and he was on Ellis Island. He was the only one there trying to get out of America instead of in, but he knew that he needed to get to Cardiff and wait for the Doctor. _He's got to fuel up __**sometime**__._ _I have to find him._

But, classic Jack, he couldn't possibly just accept what the man at the desk was saying. Couldn't possibly stay out of trouble.

"What do you mean the ships only go one way? They have to get back to Europe to bring the people over somehow! Can't you just let me get on one of them?"

"Sir," the man behind the counter said, "No one goes on the ships who is not part of the crew. No exceptions."

"No!" Jack yelled, grabbing the other man by the lapels. "You have to let me go! I _need _to get to Wales! Or England! Hell, I'll even go to Ireland!"

"Let go of me!" the man yelled, gripping at Jack's wrists, trying to pull himself free. "Let me go this instant!"

Jack just pulled the man closer. "Let me get on one of those damn boats, or so help me, I will kick your ass. I have been places that you could not even _imagine_, and now you're trying to keep me _here_ in the 19th Century." Jack yelled in frustration and let the man down. People around them looked on, curious about the altercation, but Jack paid them no mind. "You are _going _to let me onto one of those boats!"

The man behind the counter pulled out a gun and pointed it directly at Jack's chest. "I am warning you, sir. If you don't leave right now, I will shoot."

Jack laughed loudly but without humor. "You wouldn't shoot me in front of all of these people!" He got closer to the counter again, intending to continue his rant.

The man pulled the trigger and the bullet went straight through Jack's heart. He fell backwards, hitting a few people on his way to the dirty floor. There were several screams, although he didn't hear them. He lay there for exactly forty-seven seconds before, with an excruciating gasp, he woke up. He heard the screams this time.

At first Jack was filled with a delayed sense of overwhelming fear about being shot. After a few moments, he realized that he wasn't dead, even though he knew that the bullet must have hit him square in the chest. In his mind, he replayed images of Daleks, over thirty years in his past and yet so far into the future. More images flashed behind his eyes, of dust on the ground and a disappearing blue Police Box. He was still just as frightened, but for a different reason. _What the hell __**happened **__to me?_

The man behind the counter looked like he had seen a ghost. "I suppose," he started shakily, "We could make one exception."

_Dying a second time, _Jack thought as he hesitantly stood up and followed the man to a ship and listened to him tell the confused crew that they were to take him with them back to Ireland, _is a lot like dying the first._

xxx

By the twelfth time Captain Jack Harkness died, he was used to it. It was 1899 and he was in Cardiff, drinking more than any normal man could consume and waiting for the Doctor. He loved this new immortality thing. Didn't have to worry about damaging his liver, and would always come out on top of any fight he got into, because the survivor was always crowned the victor. It also meant that he didn't have to worry about any of the crazy things that tended to pop up in this corner of Wales killing him before the Doctor arrived to at least explain things to him, if not fix him. He didn't doubt that the Doctor would be able to set his body back in motion, he just wondered whether, when the time came, he would want that. Being immortal was useful.

A very inebriated Jack wandered out of the tavern and into the street, not checking to see if there might be anyone coming. A horse-pulled carriage, going far too fast to be stopped by its driver, was headed straight toward Jack. All he had time to do was turn to face the horses in surprise before they were knocking him down and stepping all over his body. The horses weighed far more than he, and their hard hooves crunched and snapped his bones in one of the most painful experiences of Jack Harkness' very long existence. Finally, they broke several of his ribs, which punctured his lungs and heart in multiple places.

A few feet away from Jack's body, the carriage stopped as soon as it could. The driver ran over to Jack's prone body and then flinched at the sight. Jack was covered in bruises and was bleeding in several places. But after a minute or so, sure enough, Jack shot up and inhaled sharply, pulling in deep breaths to compensate for the sixty-four seconds his lungs had gone without oxygen. The carriage driver stumbled backwards in surprise.

Jack put "getting trampled by horses" onto the top of his mental list of "Most Painful Ways to Die".

xxx

By the end of the Great War, Captain Jack Harkness (having earned that rank for the first time in his life) had died four hundred, eighty-three times in his life. The last of those was in 1918 during the Second Battle of the Somme. It was Jack's first war, and it was one of the worst experiences Jack would have the misfortune to remember. During those four years, many of Jack's comrades learned that Jack was not like the rest of them, and after his first few deaths his superior officers decided to make use of him. He would always be the scout. He was always on the front line. And, on occasion, he was used to attempt to spy on the enemy.

There was nothing particularly special about Jack's last death of World War I. He was with his men at Albert, trying to capture it from the German Second Army, and he was the first to turn a corner around a building before the real fighting broke out. Several German soldiers shot him all over, but the killing blow was a shot in his right thigh, severing the major artery. While his men and the Germans fought, Jack bled out on the ground. The medics didn't bother with him anymore. No reason to waste supplies when they knew that he would come back.

As Jack lay on the ground, growing dizzy from blood loss, it struck him that he would probably be grateful if he didn't wake back up. As much as he wanted to see the Doctor again, he wasn't so sure that it was worth it. All of this death. Not just his, although he certainly wished that that could be avoided, but also the death of his comrades. His friends. He had to watch the people around him die without the comfort of knowing that in a minute or two, they would come gasping back to life. Jack didn't know if he wanted to live anymore. As these thoughts plagued his foggy mind, the warfare around him faded to black. When less than a minute later Jack awoke with the usual intake of breath, much to the surprise of the German stealing his gun, Jack groaned. Always living. Always dying. It was a never ending cycle, and he was beginning to grow tired of it. But there was a war to be fought and his men to protect, so he punched the other man, stole his gun back, and shot the other soldier.

xxx

Captain Jack Harkness' 1,142nd death was once again in Cardiff, in the year 2006. After everyone had gone home, Jack settled down to look over the grim statistics that had been sent to him about the Battle of Canary Wharf. He wanted to make sure that none of his team was there, in case he found out something useful. He had heard rumors that the Doctor had been at the battle, had even been the one to save the planet. And sure enough, while reading through the report written by one of the survivors, the Doctor was mentioned several times. Much to Jack's amusement, so were Rose, Jackie, and Mickey.

_So he's still traveling with Rose?_ he thought to himself. _Hasn't abandoned her, yet. Well, good for them, I suppose. I wonder if he's actually gotten the courage to make a move on her._

Jack's amusement dissipated as he got further along into the report. He'd been part of enough battles to know that that scale of death was nothing to be amused by. The end of the actual report was mere speculation, as the few survivors had left the building and the Doctor had refused to speak to anyone before departing in his TARDIS. How the Time Lord had pulled all of the Daleks and Cybermen out of the world was anyone's guess.

Now it was time for Jack to do the paperwork. Under any other circumstances, Torchwood One would be responsible for the work, seeing as it had happened at their base, but obviously, there wasn't really a Torchwood One left to be responsible for anything. So Jack started looking through the list of the dead and other numbers, writing down which specific statistics corresponded with each other. And then he came across a name that he hadn't expected.

_Tyler, Rose_

_No. No. The Doctor wouldn't have let her die._ But no matter how hard Jack searched within the file to find something to contradict what he had read, there was nothing. Rose Tyler was dead to the world. Grief tore through Jack as it hadn't since this millennium had begun. For some reason, even though he knew exactly how dangerous it was to travel with the Doctor, he had never expected to lose Rose. When he pictured the Doctor, he always pictured the blonde girl beside him. He couldn't fathom the idea of a universe without her in it, somewhere. So Jack reached into his desk, pulled out his gun, and put it to his temple.

Jack was grateful that Tosh, Owen, and Suzie were all home for the evening. It would have been tricky to explain the sound of a gunshot and his sudden need for cleaning supplies in his office.

xxx

The 1,303rd death of Captain Jack Harkness was certainly the most unique death he had ever experienced. His team (_Stupid people, their loved ones aren't back. They never come back.) _had opened the rift and let loose Abaddon. A demon that was basically pure death. One merely had to touch its shadow to die instantly. Jack knew it wasn't going to be fun, but he could only think of one way to battle a demon that was pure death. Counteract it with himself: pure life. He didn't know what was going to happen when he stepped into Abaddon's shadow, but he knew that he damn well had to try it. He had to fix this. His team opened the rift and freed it, so this was his responsibility.

He was weak, still, which wasn't ideal, but nothing could be done about that. Hopefully he really was an infinite source of life instead of an incredibly bountiful one, because this plan already had enough holes in it without the idea of him not having enough life to give. He had Gwen drive him to an open space, where there was no one else to be killed. But Gwen, with her big heart that was usually in the right place, even if her actions weren't always good, couldn't just let it go. She had to follow him as he got out of the car. So he explained.

"If Abaddon is the bringer of death, let's see how he does with me! If he feeds on life, then I'm an all you can eat buffet!"

"No, wait! Wait, you're too weak!" she yelled, grabbing his lapels and trying to hold him back.

"Get out of here," he said, pulling her hands off and pushing here away. "Get – GO! Drive as fast as you can!" Jack heard her cry and knew that she didn't move from where she was, but he couldn't wait much longer. He couldn't let the body count grow any higher. Not because of him and his team.

"Jack…." She whimpered.

"Bring it _on_!" Jack yelled at the monster. Abaddon heard him and changed his course, heading directly for the clearing where Jack stood. He stared up at the demon, fear coursing through him as he wondered about how this was going to work. Would he just fall over dead like everyone else? Would it take him longer to die? Would he survive? Would he and Abaddon be locked forever in this battle to the death? The possibilities were making Jack's already dizzy head spin.

Then the shadow reached him, and there was the most intense pain he had ever felt. He'd used that phrase in his mind many times in his long life for both torture and death, but this was on a whole new level. He would never be able to describe this pain to anyone. It wasn't coming from anywhere. He could just feel the life being pulled out of his body. He didn't know what was happening around him. He wasn't aware of the white beam of light that started to be pulled from his chest into Abaddon. All he knew was that he was screaming and flailing involuntarily because the pain was so intense.

But he would gladly endure the pain if it would save the World. Save Cardiff. Save his team. Owen. Tosh. Ianto. Gwen. He would be nothing without them, and they were certainly worth sacrificing everything for. He was sick of outliving his coworkers, anyway. Maybe, just once, he would get the chance to return the favor.

And then, with the ground trembling beneath him, it all went black. And for the first time, there was something waiting for him in death. There was darkness. And somehow, he knew that there was something lurking in it, waiting. _Maybe I finally did it. Maybe I finally, __**really**__, died._ But whatever was in the darkness stayed there, and Jack found himself not knowing what to do. He didn't seem to have a body, here, so he couldn't really move. There was nowhere to move _to_.

Time passed. He couldn't be certain how much. But it was the longest amount of time he had ever stayed dead, even during battles of both World Wars where he would die numerous times in a row.

And then, the darkness was gone, and in its place, there were Gwen Coopers lips against his own. It took him too long to muster the strength to open his eyes, and she was gone by the time he even realized what had happened. When he finally inhaled enough to speak, he quietly said, "Thank you."

Immediately, Gwen came running back to his side, grabbing his shoulders. She brought him clothes and left him to dress, then returned to help him walk back into the main section of the hub.

Toshiko was the first to realize that they were there, and she came running over to him, embracing him tightly. Then Ianto walked over, and the ever formal man held his hand out as if a handshake was the appropriate gesture for your boss/lover when he has just come back from being dead for three days. Jack ignored the hand and pulled Ianto into a hug, grateful to have the young man in his life. After a moment, Jack pulled back and kissed Ianto, cradling his head and neck as he enjoyed the feel of Ianto's hands on his waist. Then Ianto backed away and walked over to where Tosh and Gwen were standing. Owen hesitantly started to walk over to Jack as Jack fixed him with a stare. They slowly walked toward each other.

When they were face to face, Owen was speechless, but knew that he needed to try to say something, anything. "I…."

"I forgive you," Jack, making it easier on both of them. He pulled the instantly sobbing Owen to his chest, knowing that forgiveness was exactly what the man needed.

Yes. This death and its aftermath were definitely unique.

xxx

The last death of Captain Jack Harkness was billions of years later, in New New York, on the planet New Earth. Martha Jones, who he had met so many years before, but had yet to meet him, was trapped below the city in the worst traffic jam in the history of the universe. He gave up his last bit of energy to save her, along with a few billion other people. He saved only the tiniest bit for himself, because he knew that he had to tell the Doctor his "last secret".

He had thought, about fifty years before, that it was his time to finally die, and had called the Doctor to him at that time. But upon seeing Rose with him, he knew that he still had longer to live. He remembered, several lifetimes ago, back at the end of the universe, when Martha was talking to the Doctor about the Face of Boe and how he had told him that he wasn't alone. He remembered being utterly confused, because "Face of Boe" had been his nickname back in the 51st Century, before he had even met the Doctor. Who could they possibly be talking about? But he knew it must be important to the timeline, so after the whole mess with the Master was over with, and he went back to Cardiff and Torchwood, he told them, subtly, that he had been the Face of Boe.

Now, after having lived for billions and billions of years, Captain Jack Harkness, who hadn't been called that in so long that he barely even identified himself as that in his own head anymore, he was finally going to die permanently. Even Rose filled with the power of the Time Vortex couldn't grant him infinity, and he was glad.

So there he lay, just a head, his body having slowly decayed and, with the new technology, removed. Novice Hame was sitting beside him, the Doctor and Martha in front. He knew that he was, at last, taking his final breaths.

"My lord gave his life to save the city. And now he's dying," the cat said.

"No, don't say that. Not old Boe. Plenty of life left." the Doctor replied, trying to be optimistic. He didn't know who the Face of Boe really was, and couldn't. Not then. So Jack didn't protest.

"It's good to breathe the air once more," Jack said. The tank had been necessary once they had removed his body, but he really did miss the fresh air.

"Who is he?" Martha asked, turning to face the Doctor.

"I don't even know," he replied. "Legend says the Face of Boe has lived for billions of years. Isn't that right? And you're not about to give up now."

"Everything has its time," Jack answered. "You know that, old friend, better than most." He so wished that he could tell the Doctor who he really was, but he knew that wasn't how it was meant to be. So he called him "old friend", even though the Doctor had only met him three times. He knew that soon enough, his much younger self would be telling the Doctor his identity. It would be revealed then.

"The legend says more," Novice Hame said.

"Don't, there's no need for that," the Doctor interrupted.

"It says that the Face of Boe will speak his final secret to a traveler." With the last three words, the cat looked at the Doctor.

"Yeah, but not yet. Who needs secrets, eh?"

"I have seen so much," Jack started. "Perhaps…too much. I am the last of my kind, as you are the last of yours, Doctor."

"That's why we have to survive," the Doctor said, looking sadder as he came to realize that he couldn't stop the Face of Boe from dying, no matter how much he protested. "Both of us. Don't go."

"I must. But know this, Time Lord. You are not alone."

The last thing Captain Jack Harkness witnessed as he drew his final, wheezing breath was the look of confusion on the Doctor's face. And then, slowly, Jack, the Face of Boe, the impossible man, the supposed fact, died. It was nothing like any of the other deaths he had been through. It was peaceful, and he was surrounded by people he cared about. He closed his eyes and drifted off. He was ready for the darkness this time, and he welcomed it.

And this, he found, was nothing like the first time.


End file.
